I'd Rather Live, Than Live Forever

It's not like I always wanted to be this way; clean cut, polite, well mannered, perfect. I was simply raised this way, brain washed to cross my T's and dot my I's, so the world knows that I am Carnile worthy. There's no room for mistakes in our line of business, no room to be dangerous, out of line, destructive, imperfect.

Carnile.

Who are we, you ask? Listen up, because knowing the Carnile name is just as important as knowing your abc's and 123's. Every top notch instrument, every vocal coach, dance teacher, art school, art scholarship, institution, you ever encountered was 95% made, payed for, or taught by a Carnile.

We have been building the price of our name sense the 1800's, starting with Diane and Robert Carnile, both being very talented with the art of dance. Eventually they had children who were just as gifted with art as their parents, and they had children, and they had children, and so on and so on. They say that our family was blessed with artistic skills, each branching off to their own styles of art, and growing an even bigger name for ourselves.

The more they do this, the more I drown.

I don't believe we intended to be looked upon as a perfect well rounded family, the more popular we got, the more demands were made to keep our profile clean. This way parents wouldn't be discouraged to send their child off to our schools or buy our products.

I could care less.

Unfortunately, I at least have to act like it.

I am the middle child out of three. Harmony being the oldest, Carol being the youngest, and me-- Melody, middle.

Although my father, who is a great music writer and conductor, is proud of us all; I can't help but feel like a slight disappointment to him.

My specialty is string instruments and although I may be better than most-- I'm not Carnile best. When my sisters mastered learning notes at age 6, I didn't master it till age 8. I was too short to do ballet, impatient to finish a painting, and too lazy to take go out and take some snap shots. I think we all knew I wasn't Carnile material, but sense we are family, we will love each other.

The best thing I can do is impersonate a young, successful, talented woman. So I did and I fooled the world although I was actually depressed. Everyday seemed like a day of dragging around 100 pound weights around my body, disabled to color outside the lines or cut my hair to form a mohawk.

I try to subdue my aching want for mass chaos by exercising unhealthy hours a day. My escape can't be music like everyone else-- it's my core problem. Knowing that I'm not good enough to reach our standards, knowing that my father's smile falters when his eyes land on me.

Sometimes I brush my hair till it's smooth and perfect, put on an ironed shirt, open my french doors to the balcony... and scream my head off. Just scream. Letting out all my anger and letting it blow away with the wind else where.

Then I turn around, walk back in my room, and stare at myself in the mirror. I smile when I see my hair sticking out in different direction, my once flat top wrinkled like an old woman's face. Pathetic, right?

It's my life, I was raised to be a droid of a Carnile.

The Carnile name shall live on forever.

21 straight years of what feels like I've spent in the slammer.
1 year to have that all changed by Oliver Sykes.